Unsatisfactory
by Consequential
Summary: It's easier brooding when the weather's there to add dramatic effect. Pre2007 Movie.


**Unsatisfactory**

**A/N: While trying to get myself out of my writing rut, I produced this little thing with a prompt from a random word generator. When I think I'm completely out of it (and that can be taken anyway you'd like), I'm probably going to make this better. Until then; please don't sue because I don't own, and I hope this is acceptable. :)**

Olive green feet dangle from the mossy rooftops high above. The wind howls and moans satisfactorily, but the sky is clear, the night is warm.

It isn't fair. At least when Raph broods, it has the decency to rain a bit, maybe throw in some thunder and lightning if the weather's really spoiling him, be overcast at the very least – but no. Even the sky reckons he ought to leave the angst to Raphael.

Yeah, well the sky can just suck it, even if it won't precipitate for him.

Even so, the breeze becomes chilling after a while, and he shivers unexpectedly. He wonders how Raph can last so long – then he remembers that his brother has that nice, (_dangerous)_, shiny, _(death trap)_ to keep him warm.

And he can't call him on it, because he's a coward, and he just doesn't want the one to ruin what they have going for them _(he just couldn't stand it if he's the one who knocks over the tower of cards; even if there's too few cards on top)_, because even though it's tense and awkward and not right at all, at least they're not at each other's throats.

Most of the time.

But the thing is; he doesn't know what to do when they _are_ – he doesn't _really _want to hurt them (_him)_ but when his head hurts and the day's been too long and it's still not over...

He wants to snap. And it seems like every single time he's about to let loose, he stops himself; but before he can _reward_ himself for his self-restrain, that obnoxious _jerk_ is always, always there to call him a coward and because he's so annoyed with that he takes his anger and frustration out on someone who deserves it least.

He's shaking now, and he's pretty sure that even if it wasn't getting chilly now _(hope I don't get sick, can't afford it)_ he'd be doing the exact same thing. He's angrier than ever now, even though he left the lair to cool off – irony seemed to have a lot of fun with him – and he's clenching his fists, gritting his teeth so hard it hurts, because it's just not fair. He's not making a good enough Leo; he's not in control enough, secure enough, confident enough – he's not even being a good enough _him_ any more; and he almost wants to laugh out loud at how bitterly messed up that is.

He can't remember the last time he sat down and just put things together, thinking of what to do next when it came up. Everything has to be organized, and for some reason everything is still going so completely and utterly wrong.

And irony strikes again.

He wouldn't have minded so much if it had just been Raphael. Hell, Raph was always angry, so he could take it if it had just been Raph transferring his anger at Leo onto him. He'd almost expect that. But what is just so unfair that it constricts his chest and he wants to scream even though he can't even _breathe_ is that he gets the anger and the disappointment and the constant criticism and he can't say anything; do anything – and that just makes Raph all the more smug, all the more ready to point out his faults in minute detail.

But Raph isn't happy just being bitter and sulking and taking out his frustration at Leo's absence on him. Obviously, because he just takes it he's not a good enough target, and it seems like every single quirk and charm about Mikey pisses Raph off – what used to be rolled eyes and thoughtless _thwaps_ around the side of the head become shouts, punches that bruise and Mike just laughs it off and he can't stand it but there's nothing he can do without it all going wrong, wrong, wrong...

And he can tell that even though he's constantly telling his sons how proud he is of each and every one of them, he can tell that he's disappointed Master Splinter – and that isn't right, because he's trying so hard and-.

There isn't any metaphor that's quite right; they all seem too dramatic, or not strong enough, and he thinks it's so stupid that he's been driven to this even though he didn't ask for it, but because it's been expected of him that he must be doing something _(anything)_ wrong.

Raph's got his messed-up little vigilante routine, Mikey's getting pounded on by little kids, and he's being driven slowly insane by these_morons_.

It's not his fault. He tried his best; he couldn't do better – it _wasn't his fault._

And it wasn't fair that it felt like it was.

_He was reading a book; eyelids drooping as his body rebelled against this sleep-depriving abuse. It was a stupid thing to promise Mikey – it wasn't like _Raph _was going to have do anything more strenuous than sleep and maybe get something to eat the next – later that day, in fact. But Mikey was Mikey; and so he worried. Worried that Raph was hurt, worried that one day Raph would decide he was sick of it all and do a Leo. But if Mikey passed out; while he was driving to work – Hell, while he was_at _work, it'd turn out so much worse for him than if Don started snoring into his headset while some irate computer-illiterate middle-aged housewife complained that her laptop had stopped working after she'd spilled a glass of wine over the keyboard. _

_But even so; it was five A.M., his entire being seemed to be protesting, and the small part of him that still wanted to stay up wasn't providing a very good argument. He was sure he'd have lost that fight if it wasn't for the subtle sound of someone trying to open the door without making a noise._

"_Raph?" He called out – although he wasn't sure why, since a) who else would it be, after all? And b) the last conversation he'd had with Raph had ended on a bad enough note he wasn't keen for a repeat quite so soon. The other turtle jerked, startled, and there was a clatter of metal hitting the ground, and a hiss of anger. _

"_Don't sneak up on me like that!" He growled, as Don looked over to where the sai lay, trying to see if they had been ... well, used. They had. He tried not to get angry – he was _not_going to be the one to rip their family even further apart._

"_Nightwatcher strikes again," he murmured, drowsiness making him unaware he was speaking out loud. Raph paled, and shot him an angry glare._

"_What was that?!" He demanded, storming over to Don, his hands balled into fists. At no response, he gave his brother an angry shove. Donny flinched, and stepped back; hands raised in a pacifying motion. It did not appear to work._

"_Raph, I-"_

"_You better not tell anyone, Don, I mean it!" Again, Don would have to blame lack of sleep for what he did next. He laughed, though there was no humour to it._

"_You honestly..." He began, looking over at Raph with raised eyeridges. "You honestly think it isn't obvious? I'm not an idiot, Raph."_

"_Oh, of course not!" Raph said in a furious whisper. "You're the little boy genius who no-one _ever_appreciates, and you know all kinds of shit because you're just that much smarter than the rest of us."_

"_I-"_

"_I suppose we're just so lucky that you even bring yourself to talk to us idiots, ain't we? Betcha feel all superior? Well, I got news for you Donny: Leo may have been a Splinter Junior, but he earned it; so don't you go thinkin' that you can replace him just 'cuz Splinter says you can." He gritted his teeth. "You don't do anythin' that he did – and that's why I'm doing what I am – because you're too chicken-shit to do nothin' but sit at your computer and feel all smart!" Raphael took a step forward, and instinctively Don took a step back. Raph smirked with satisfaction. "An' that's exactly what I'm talking about. So you're gonna keep on doin' nothin', and I'm gonna keep on doing this. And you ain't gonna tell Splinter, because you're a good little boy who doesn't want everyone to know what a crappy job he's doing at bein' a leader."_

_White hot rage that had been building up for the past few months flared, and before he could stop himself, Don had directed a fist square at his brother's jaw. Which was caught expertly. Damn. He was out of practice, and Raph clearly wasn't. He felt his skin prickle and he caught Raph's sneer. _

"_Whatever," he muttered as he walked off, hoping this little encounter would not make it impossible to get the little sleep available to him._

If tensions had been frayed before, they had been ripped to shreds from that morning onwards. Every time he saw Raph, he felt his mocking gaze upon him. He'd ignored his brother the best he could; instead spending as much time as he could helping his _other _brother wherever possible.

Tears build up in his eyes, and he blinks over and over, embarrassed and annoyed, and angry because he hasn't done anything wrong and it feels like everything the universe can possibly throw at him is having a go at hitting their target.

_It had been like some sort of parallel universe. Don had just been ending his final call for the evening (_"I'm sorry Ma'am, but if you're still having trouble you can call me in the morning,"), _and despite everything he couldn't help feeling that maybe this day would end without anything going significantly wrong, when Mikey stormed in._

_For what seemed like an eternity, Mike just stood there, quivering, his face hidden as he stared pointedly down at the ground._

"_Er... are you okay, Mike?" Don asked hesitantly, wondering exactly what had gone so horribly awry so quickly. There was a moment or two's further pause, and then-_

"_Why do you just _take it?!_" His little brother yelled, face screwed up in rage that was frightening, it was so unexpected. Donatello felt his mouth go dry as he tried to come up with a response more eloquent than 'Huh?'. _

"_Mikey... what's wrong?" He nearly fell back off his chair as he caught the withering glare on Michelangelo's face. _

"He,"_and there was no question who 'he' was, "Is treating you like shit! But you don't even do anything, you don't even SAY anything! You're meant to be the leader, but you're not doing anything! Why?"_

_Donny felt his eyes darken as he looked down at one of the keyboards, keeping his gaze firmly away from his brother's. "... I'm sorry," he said quietly. Apparently, this was not the correct response._

"_You're s-sorry," Mikey repeated, sounding almost hysterical. "You shouldn't have to be sorry! You should – you should-!"_

_And it was stupid, but Don couldn't prevent the small burst of anger escaping,_

"_I should what? WHAT SHOULD I DO, MIKEY?" He yelled, still not facing his youngest brother, fingers slamming down upon the plastic keys. He heard Mikey let out a choked up sob, and froze._

"_You should be Leo," he heard him whimper before leaving Don to the keyboard's beeping protest._

He grimaces, and wonders if they'll be worried. He expects so; he's not so disillusioned (yet) that his brothers don't care about him. Even so, he can't help feeling a little surprised when he hears a voice behind him call out, "Donny?"

And suddenly he's awash with "I'm sorry"s and "I didn't mean it"s and he's _more_than a little surprised when he finds his head in a none-too-painful-but-still-firm headlock, and a rough voice saying,

"Don't you ever do that again, y'hear me? 'Cause next time I'm gonna be a little tougher on the punishment side of things!"

And he sighs and smiles and nods and when they go back home it's as if the last months haven't happened – but of course they have. He sits on the couch, and tries not to laugh as Raph forces out his version of a heartfelt apology.

"I can't say I'm never gonna get ticked off at ya again," he says, and rolls his eyes at Mikey's glare. "I'm sorry Mikey, but Donny's too much of a goody-two-shoes for me not to get annoyed at least once in a while. In fact, I'm probably gonna get pissy with you later this week."

"Raph, y'do realize it's Sunday, don't ya?" Mikey asks, folding his arms. Raph sighs exasperatedly, and throws his arms into the air.

"Okay, _next_week." He looks pointedly at Mikey. "Satisfied?" He asks, and receives a nod in response.

"And I'm going to be the best and most entertaining little brother I can possibly be," Mikey announces, and Donny can't help the grin as Raph groans and covers his face with his hands. Mike smiles sheepishly. "Okay, maybe I'll be a bit less entertaining. If, y'know, I think you're about to beat my face in."

"It's all I ask," Raph grumbles, rolling his eyes once more. But he casts a wary eye over at Don, and this time his tone is a lot softer – though still gruff and manly enough to be Raph-ish. "So, no more running away?"

He nods. He's smart, he doesn't think for one minute that this calm will last for more than maybe a few days. But he also decides that maybe if he can just get his brothers like this even just every so often, it could work out okay.

Maybe.


End file.
